Science Vs Romance
by TwoHearts-OneShip
Summary: It's cold out there, but i'm telling you i'm lonely too... Nick/Greg, from Greg's POV. Not really a song fic, but inspired by Rilo Kiley.


I really felt like writing something today, but I'm not sure if I'm satisfied with this. It's not quite saying what I want it to say, but I'm gonna post it anyway and hopefully others will offer their thoughts. It's based on the song Science Vs Romance by Rilo Kliey which has always had a very Nick and Greg feel about it to me. It's also a lovely song so I recommend a listen.

I would also like to give lots of thanks to happyharper13, and QueenoftheUniverse for their encouragement with my other stories, as well as everyone else who has reviewed my stuff. It really means a lot.

Usual disclaimer applies, and all mistakes are mine so I apologise for them. Reviews are very much welcomed and cherished.

xXx

_Crash sites keep me up at night..._

You take a step, snap a picture, feel the rush of air swipe your body as your imagination draws a vivid picture. The squeal of tires around a sharp bend, a collision pounding the silent night air, death and destruction flung all around. You bend to study scraps of metal floating in pools of blood, cataloguing the loss of human life like a shopping list attached to your fridge door.

Others mill around. You hear a young officer coughing into the bushes but you don't look up. You reach for your kit instead, collecting and bagging, your camera a heavy weight around your neck.

Your mind wanders and you frown, remembering the glass walls of your lab and the naive comfort they brought you on long nights. You think back over the years and feel yourself floating away from your current carnage. You wonder if they were better times, or whether waiting really was worse than knowing. You tell yourself you're at ease, smoothing out the frown that's creased itself into your forehead, and curl your fingers around your camera again.

You stand up slowly, taking deep breaths of the crisp, desert air. Your kit glints with sweeping flashlight beams and you peer into the distance, dismissing a desire to gaze up into the twinkling midnight sky. You focus your gaze on the people around you instead, cops and colleagues, working towards a common goal; to find answers and erase the past. By morning the site of the crash will be all but gone, bagged and tagged and lying on a slab, out of sight and out of mind.

_But not to everyone..._you think to yourself; connecting, calculating, evaluating.

xXx

It's nearing morning when you lean wearily against a cruiser and allow your eyes to close. Your head is buzzing with angles and figures, scenarios of impact, and your kit is bursting with labelled evidence. A sound beside you startles you and you glance up into crinkled, dark chocolate eyes and a warm smile. You smile back, but feel the weight of it heavy on your face. Your companion's talking, discussing theories, and you nod in all the appropriate places. He leans beside you, allowing your shoulders to touch, and you close your eyes again.

His voice is soothing, comforting. Tire tracks tell a story, the angle of collision can mark a path like the trajectory of a body through a glass wall, or the calculation of air in a box buried underground. Symbols and figures mapped out and logged.

You shiver slightly and wrap your arms around your body. You feel him turn slightly beside you as if to offer his assistance. You imagine his gaze on you, warm and familiar, and at one time you'd have anticipated his touch. But not now. You open your eyes and focus on the road again. Meters divided, separation accepted, collected, concluded. Back to work.

xXx

_Test sites keep me up at night..._

You mix the exact amount of chemicals that you need to create a reaction, the act comforting in its familiarity. Pipettes and test tubes surround you, boxing you in, machinery moving in sync with a dance you know so well.

After a moment you realise you're not alone and you turn around, watching silently as he leans against the doorframe. He makes a joke but you frown it off, focusing on the whirring and beeping, the constant and reliable backdrop to your slowly spinning world. He stalks towards you, concerned, warm hand hovering just above your back, and you wonder just when you became so separate.

Beeping saves you from an awkward silence and you grab the print out, looking over it and letting him lean over your shoulder, warm breath and soft voice whispered in your ear as you connect the dots, analyse and discuss. Like any other night.

You give up hours of your time, circling and calculating, evidence laid out like lovers on a bed. You feel your walls crumbling, drawing him closer, as you both gaze down at glossy photographs, his fingerprints branding the skin of your arms. A chemical reaction as he brushes your fingers, spots of light dancing and fading. You warn yourself, step away, take a breath.

You focus again, making lists, dividing pros and cons, ignoring the feel of his body close to yours, the soft sound of his voice washing over you. Electric currents surge around you, engulf you, drawing you together, the warmth of his gaze a catalyst for the desire building inside you.

You ignore the voice in your head as he closes the space between you, distance covered in a heart beat. He backs you against the table and you surrender to him, the heat of his body tingling between you, the feel of his lips on yours a familiar fantasy as you grip his shirt and tug him closer, everything else suddenly and blissfully forgotten.

Desperate, heated, a perfect collision.


End file.
